


Of Bananas And Basements

by yumimum



Series: I Take The Words 'Verse [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s01e10 The Doctor Dances, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Het, Missing Scene, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumimum/pseuds/yumimum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no one left to judge him. His planet was gone—his people, dead. He was alone—except he wasn’t. He had her. Rose Tyler. And no pretty boy space captain was going to waltz in and take her away.  Not now, Not ever. </p><p>Sequel/Prequel to A Trip Of Two Lifetimes (Or How Rose Tyler Learned To Relax And Love Chickens)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Bananas And Basements

It had been decades since the Doctor danced—in the literal sense, of course—not the poorly veiled euphemisms they’d bandied around in a hospital basement. But now, as his companion’s happiness echoed throughout the console room, tears of laughter glistening in her eyes, the Time Lord had to admit that the sensation of holding Rose Tyler in his arms was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

She captivated him. No two ways about it. He was her willing prisoner—her eager servant—and beaming like a madman, the Doctor revelled in Rose’s hoot of delight as she tossed her hair back and flashed that tongue-between-teeth grin that always made him weak at the knees.

“Told you I had the moves,” he said, spinning her to arm’s length.

“You think you’re so impressive.”

“I _am_ so impressive!”

The TARDIS’ sound system flowed seamlessly into the next track—a jaunty little number popular on Sirius IV in the mid-23rd century—and Rose giggled, her fingers tightening around his own as he tugged her back into the security of his embrace.

_Oh, how he’d missed that smile._

Their recent trip to 1987 had been a harrowing lesson for them both, and one that the Doctor wouldn’t soon forget. His foolish display of arrogance had left his companion pale and withdrawn in the days that followed, until finally he’d plotted a course to the Powell Estates, willing to risk a barrage of death glares and incessant nagging, if it meant returning the familiar grin to Rose’s face. He wasn’t a complete martyr though, and with the ominous spectre of Jackie Tyler’s home cooked Shepherd’s Pie hovering above his head, the Doctor had soon retreated to the TARDIS, an offer to pick up dinner fresh upon his lips.

Clearly his experience with the Reapers had taken its toll, because the next thing he knew he was waking up in the captain’s chair, several hours having passed in blissful slumber. Unusual for him, that. He’d never been one for just nodding off. Still, no harm done the Doctor supposed, and with the flick of a switch he’d journeyed on to Mutter’s Spiral for a triple order of Gumblejack cuisine before returning to his companion, his best friend, the woman he—

_“Doctor!”_

Rose squealed in delight, and the Time Lord basked in the giddy thrill of her undivided attention—something he’d been sorely missing in War time London. “What’s the matter? Afraid you can’t keep up?”

Breathless, she smiled back at him. “Like you can talk, _old man_.”

“You being ageist, Rose Tyler?”

“Nine hundred years old, you said. Not exactly a spring chicken, are you?”

“Says who?” The Doctor’s eyes narrowed in false indignation. “Just because you apes have the lifespan of a Dunderfly, doesn’t mean the same can be said for the rest of us. Superior species, here. For all _you_ know, nine hundred could be the prime of life for my lot.”

“And is it?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

Rose rolled her eyes, and the Doctor chuckled as the air around them was pierced by a familiar string of synthesised notes. Either the TARDIS had a hidden penchant for 80’s Earth pop culture, or her fried circuits had developed a sense of humour since the War. Waggling his eyebrows, the Doctor nodded his head to the beat, and Rose laughed as a wave of nostalgia rushed over her.

“Our first date!” she cried, oblivious to the way her words warmed his hearts as she pulled him into an impromptu hug.

“We got chips.”

“ _I_ got chips,” Rose reminded him. “A certain cheapskate didn’t have any money, remember?”

“I remember.” The Doctor’s arms wound smoothly around her waist, a frown tugging at his lips as the masculine scent of another man’s aftershave assaulted his senses.

Ah, but of course. She’d danced with _him_ first. Jack Flash—con man- _less_ -than-extraordinaire—and aboard an invisible spaceship too, if the arrogant sod were to be believed. The Doctor would bet his last Preslonian Dollar that a moonlit waltz wasn’t the only kind of _dancing_ on the smarmy git’s mind, but as Rose’s soft exhalations caressed the sensitive skin of his neck, the Time Lord gloried in the fact that it was _his_ arms the girl in question was currently wrapped up in.

Nevertheless, the Doctor did have to give the shameless playboy _some_ credit. One stony glare and the Captain soon realised his shipmates were off-limits. He’d bid them goodnight soon after, leaving the Doctor to savour this rare opportunity for happiness—no matter how short-lived it turned out to be.

Each inadvertent grind of Rose’ hips, each fleeting caress of her delicate fingers set fire to his blood, and it was all the Doctor could do to keep from smothering her lips with a kiss so powerful it stole the breath from her lungs. The mere thought of it was enough to make his jeans uncomfortably tight, and swallowing hard, the Doctor hid his discomfort by leading Rose into an elaborate two-step he’d picked up on Axista Four.

It was easy to see how this latest pretty boy had turned his companion’s head. The girl liked to be impressed—be it that prat Adam and his pointless bloody A-levels, or this _Captain_ and his bit of Spock. But what about him? What did _he_ have to offer? Friendship? Loyalty? Adventure? The entirety of Time and Space was at his disposal—and yes, he knew he was more than just a hand to hold, but that didn’t automatically mean she returned his feelings, did it? Of course not. Old man, him. She probably saw him as a kindly uncle—someone to be humoured. Someone who—

Rose’s arms coiled around his neck, and just like that the Doctor’s quite frankly magnificent brain turned to mush. Damn it all to Skaro. If he didn’t get this body under control he was going to have some awkward explaining to do. It really was a struggle to hold on to one’s dignity when you were sporting an ill-timed erection, and the Doctor seriously doubted Rose would appreciate his lecherous urges when she noticed.

 _If_ she noticed, he corrected himself—which in all likelihood was pretty doubtful. For Rose to notice she’d have to be looking, and if there was one thing the Doctor knew for certain, it was that Rose Tyler didn’t look at him _that_ way. Except—

The Doctor frowned.

Except for the times that she did.

Earlier, she’d stood before him in that hospital basement—brave, determined—her hand outstretched as the sensuous tones of a bass clarinet electrified the air around them. Any other day he might have been able to resist, but with her sceptical words drawing fresh blood from his wounded pride, the Doctor’s hearts were beating out a riotous tattoo as he felt his carefully constructed walls start to crumble around his ankles.

She’d been bored most likely. Awaiting rescue from some RAF wannabe wasn’t exactly his idea of a party either—especially as said wannabe had just _squished_ his last banana. So instead he’d focused his attention on the stubborn metal bars of their makeshift prison, figuring that he ought to at least _look_ like he had a plan. He wasn’t an idiot—despite all evidence to the contrary—and so what if the sonic was nigh on useless against concrete? Rose didn’t need to know that, did she?

All the same, his stubborn little human had dug her heels in—the slight trembling of her limbs the only indicator that she was as affected as he. It was that tell-tale vulnerability that eventually swayed the Doctor’s mind, and indeed, he’d been hesitant at first—after all this was probably just a game to her, nothing more than a way to pass the time—but in that one endless moment the Doctor had been more than willing to admit defeat in this game of cat-and-mouse they’d been playing since _run_.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The Doctor blinked, jolted from his musings by the soft voice at his shoulder. “Is that an earth penny or an Arcatean?”

“Neither, smart arse, it’s a Galsecian.”

“Ah...”

“… _Well_?”

“What?”

“Don’t _what_ me, _Mr. Never-carries-his-wallet_ , I can hear that big ol’ brain of yours clanking away as we speak.”

Rose pulled back, and a long suffering sigh fell from the Doctor’s lips as his fingers tightened on her hip, refusing to let her go. “You apes aren’t telepathic,” he said, reclaiming her hand as his free arm banded around her waist. “Nor will you ever be, despite what lies your new boyfriend tries to spin you.”

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend.”

“Best tell him that.”

“I did.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And besides,” the Doctor announced, fighting a smile as they began swaying to the TARDIS’ latest selection—a soulful harmony originating from Nyrruh-4, “Genius, here. I can assure you that if my brain were to have a defining sound, it would certainly be something far more civilised than a _clank_.”

“Right…”

The Doctor lowered her into a sudden dip, his eyes flitting over the length of Rose’s body as she leaned back over his arm. Her soft curves were the perfect complement to his own rough edges, and the Doctor’s hearts skipped a beat as she pulled herself upright, clinging to the lapels of his leather jacket as she giggled against his shoulder. _They fit_ , he realised in a flash of whimsy. She completed him.

Still, wishful thinking, that’s all it was. He wanted her—Rassilon, did he want her—but his Rose was a walking contradiction. She’d as good as confessed she didn’t see him as man, but sometimes her words, and more so her _actions_ , suggested otherwise. His coat was drenched in her scent—oddly it had been for days—and turning his head the Doctor suppressed a sigh as Rose buried her nose in the crook of his neck, her heart hammering against his chest through the thin wool of his jumper.

And that was another thing. Why was he so _aware_ of her lately? Time Lords didn’t entertain such notions as desire or lust. Impartial bystanders, they were—above such primitive concepts as selfishness and greed. Yet here he was, cherishing this one little human above all others, wishing with everything he had that he could keep her forever.

“Should do this more often,” Rose whispered beside his ear, and the Doctor almost stumbled as a potent mix of pheromones—not the least of which being human arousal—clouded his superior senses.

“Not bad for a geriatric then?”

“You’ll do, I suppose.”

Rose’s arm slipped around his back, and the Doctor drew her closer, resting their joined palms against his chest. “Could always wake up Jack? See if he wants to cut in?”

“Quite happy where I am, thanks.”

Her words were a balm to his jagged nerves, and smiling proudly, the Doctor dropped a brief kiss to her hairline. “Me too, Rose Tyler… Me too.”

She’d said earlier that this didn’t feel like dancing, and she was right—it didn’t. This was a whole new level of intimacy, and as Rose returned her head to his shoulder, the sweet honeysuckle bouquet of her shampoo suffused the air around them. He should take her to New Catalonia, the Doctor decided, his eyes drifting shut momentarily as he pictured the blossoming meadows of southern Barcelona—the planet, not the city. Rose would be thrilled to meet the native population. Dogs with no noses. Fantastic, they were. Perhaps he could—

Rassilon, he was doing it again—letting his hearts overrule his head. The depth of his emotions—this pure, unadulterated _need_ for the woman in his arms, terrified him. She threw his mind into turmoil—caused him to forget a millennia’s worth of rules, knowledge, and better judgement, as if he were some awestruck fool. She made him feel alive. She made him feel _stupid_ , but for the lives of him the Doctor couldn’t bring himself to care.

There was no one left to judge him. His planet was gone—his people, dead. He was alone—except he wasn’t. He had her. Rose Tyler. The former shop-girl who’d saved his life, who’d been saving him every day since. He was done with all that distance rubbish. No longer could he be a coward. Rose Tyler was _his_. And no pretty boy space captain was going to waltz in and take her away.

Not now.

Not _ever_.

The TARDIS lights dimmed to a bare minimum as the achingly familiar strains of Moonlight Serenade wrapped them in a heady embrace. There was no denying his physical need—the hard evidence of which was currently pressed against his partner’s stomach—and, bathed in the glow of the Time Rotor, the last of the Doctor’s fears were banished as a sigh of utter contentment fluttered against his neck.

“Rose Tyler…” he whispered, her name falling like molasses as he cupped her cheek with his palm. “Right now there’s a planet being transformed in the Garazone System. An entire world where the oceans have frozen—captured in that moment forever. Surf—hundreds of feet tall—never to reach the ground. We could go there, you and me—wander the icy tundra, drink hot chocolate beneath the motionless waves. It’s like a dreamscape—something out of a fantasy—and believe me; I know a thing or two about _those_. A flick of a switch, press a few buttons and we’d be witnessing the majesty of nature at its finest. I should be telling you to go get changed, giving you a lecture on the cataclysmic magma shift of 54/Delta, but instead, I find myself fighting the urge to do something so unutterably _human_.”

His companion released a shuddering breath, and the Doctor’s hearts soared as two paths diverged before him—two time lines wavering as his future happiness hinged on a single decision. Would she accept him? Would she want him? The clamour of voices inside his head offered no clear solution, and so it was down to him to make the final stand. Should he play it safe, or should he venture to the path less travelled? Should he cower behind the sanctity of tradition, or ring in a new era by offering himself as tribute to the Goddess who stood before him?

“Tell me to stop, and I will.”

A slow-born smile graced Rose’s features. “What if I don’t want you too?”

“You should.”

“I don’t.” Her tongue flicked across her bottom lip, and the Doctor groaned as any last flicker of resistance flew out the proverbial window.

“My precious girl…”

He chose the latter.

 

 

The Doctor poured everything he had into that first kiss—nibbling, teasing, coaxing his companion’s lips apart as his tongue sought entry, desperate to taste her fully. Her soft whimpers and breathy sighs were music to his ears, and the Time Lord gasped as Rose melted into his embrace, her hips moving subconsciously against his own, as they each surrendered to a passion that’d lain dormant for far too long.

“What’s brought this on?” Rose muttered, both arms winding around his neck as he backed them towards a coral strut. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but—”

The Doctor’s mouth claimed hers again. “Woke up with a craving.”

“And, what? You thought you’d take _me_ for a spin?”

“Nah.” The Doctor smiled, his eyes dancing as Rose raised a challenging eyebrow. “I’d rather just take _you_.” He silenced her indignant retort with another bruising kiss, knowing he was forgiven when Rose gifted him with that silly grin he absolutely adored.

“You’re asking for a slap, you.”

A heavy sigh passed the Doctor’s lips as the enormity of the situation caught up with him. “I’ll be getting more than that if your _mother_ finds out.” Leaning down, he rested his forehead against hers. “We may have to avoid Earth for a few years.”

“Too domestic?”

“Too _dangerous_!”

Rose giggled, and the Doctor decided that lilting melody was the only song he’d ever need. Rassilon, he was lost—in her, in this, in _them_ —but what was a man to do? There were certain irrevocable facts that plagued his existence, and he was no Lewis Carroll. Yes, he could tumble head first down this particular rabbit hole—willingly, happily even—but the Doctor knew all too well what awaited him on the other side, and the thought of his inevitable loss was crippling.

“You’ll tire of this one day. The danger. The running… _Me_ … You’ll want a normal life. A husband. Children—”

“Beans on toast?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Rose replied, her fingers massaging the tense muscles of his shoulders. “D’ya really think I’m only here for the sight-seeing?”

“There’s a better reason?”

“What can I say?” One of her hands snaked to his hip. “I’m a sucker for a good smile and a great bum.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “ _Humans_. Sex on the brain, the lot of you.”

“Like you can talk,” she laughed, arching against the palm currently moulding her right breast. “Didn’t hear you complaining a minute ago.”

“I blame _you_. Born troublemaker, you are. Something was bound to rub off eventually.”

Rose sniggered.

“Behave.”

“Too late for that.” A wide smile lit up her face, and pulling back, the Doctor saw the truth shining in her eyes. “I made my choice. I'm where I want to be. And I'm never gonna leave you…”

“Rose…”

She palmed his cheek. “Do you believe me?”

“If I believe in anything, Rose Tyler, it’s you.”

“Good. Now do us both a favour, yeah? Stop worrying.” She closed the gap between him, brushing his lips in a fleeting caress. “Start feeling.”

Within moments the Doctor’s senses were overwhelmed. He was drunk on her kisses, addicted to each soft sigh Rose fed him as her body arched in blatant need. Already he could hear the phantom moans of pleasure within his head, his taste buds singing from the salty tang of her skin, the lingering trace of her perfume, the arousal that imbued the air around them. Rose’s higher body temperature heated his palms as they skated down to rest at her waist, and the Doctor inhaled deeply, both nostrils flaring as he relished the constant fluctuations of her hormone-driven mind.

But no, that wasn’t fair. Rose Tyler was more than just another dumb ape. She was his Aphrodite—his Arianrhod—bringing him to life whilst seamlessly weaving herself throughout the very fabric of his existence. She was his goddess, and skimming his fingers beneath the hem of Rose’s top, the Doctor proceeded to worship the sensitive skin of her stomach, taking her mouth in another soul-stealing kiss as she writhed against him.

“Doctor,” Rose gasped, sucking in a much-needed breath as he dragged the bothersome material upwards, tugging the shirt over her arms before discarding it to the shadows beyond.

“You want this? You’re sure?”

“Been sure since _run_ ,” Rose replied, smiling as the Doctor’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Just been waiting for you to catch me, is all.”

Her words held such certainty—such unflinching conviction, that the Doctor knew this meant more to her than just scratching an itch. This went far beyond the mere physical act of sex, and with a guttural moan he pressed forward, his erection trapped and aching as he eased the bra from Rose’s body.

Hungrily, the Doctor’s eyes devoured the feast before him, and his companion bit back a cry as he cupped her tender breasts, measuring their fit against his palms. “Don’t hold back,” he whispered, thumbs stroking leisurely across her nipples as he lavished attention on her collar-bone. “Let me hear you.”

“Oh god...”

“Not in this lifetime,” he muttered against her lips, and Rose’s fingers journeyed to his lapels, pushing at the offending material until he relinquished his hold.

“Off. Now!” she demanded.

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

Her gaze fell to his jumper as the coat tumbled to the floor with a resounding _thud_ , “That too.”

“Rose—”

“ _Strip_.”

The Doctor’s cock twitched at her authoritative tone. “Anything else, milady?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Determined fingers curled around his belt buckle, and with a decisive tug he was against her, their mouths meeting in a fervent kiss as Rose released the catch and whipped the leather strap free, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and boots. “That’s better,” she continued breathlessly, raking her nails across his bare chest. “Now we’re even.”

The Doctor rasped his tongue along the smooth column of her neck. “Not just yet, we’re not. You’re quite the tease, Rose Tyler. Parading around here in those short little skirts—picking up strays wherever we go. Do you know how long I’ve wanted you? How long I’ve _craved_ you? Have you been doing it on purpose, I wonder?”

“Perhaps,” Rose replied, as the Doctor ghosted his lips across her shoulder. “But I never thought…” She trailed off, mewling in need as he eased his thigh between hers, grinding his confined erection against her crotch.

“You never thought what?”

“That you’d want this…” she whispered. “That you’d want _me_ …”

“Oh, Rose.”

“I mean, you’re _you_ , and I’m just—”

“Fantastic,” he muttered, delighting in her throaty moan as he moved against her. “Absolutely fantastic. And I intend to spend the rest of your life proving so.”

“Doctor…”

“I’m a jealous man, Rose Tyler,” he said, the words punctuated with a slow, deliberate, rock of his hips. “I _don’t_ share.” Both hands moved to cradle her arse, and the Doctor grinned as she wrapped a leg around his waist, her breath coming short and fast as she shuddered in his arms. “Tell me what you want, Rose.”

“You!” she cried, one hand clutching his shoulder, the other grasping at the back pocket of his jeans as she sought more of the delicious friction. “Just you.”

“No more pretty boys,” he demanded, pressing harder—higher—delighting in the tiny whimpers that fell from her lips. “No more idiot boyfriends. You’re mine, Rose. All mine.”

“Yours,” she agreed, bucking her hips as he pressed a series of frantic kisses to her neck. “Doctor, please… I’m… Oh god… so close…”

“So beautiful,” the Doctor replied, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. “I’ve imagined this, you know? Sordid little fantasies of how you’d feel. How you’d _taste_. There’s a list—long as a Slitheen’s arm, it is, of all the things I intend to discover about you, Rose Tyler. And believe me, you’ll not be left wanting by the time I’m satisfied.”

Grinning, he eased himself away, ignoring his companion’s objections as he sank to his knees before her. “Tell me, Rose,” he said, placing her hand upon his shoulder for balance as he removed her shoes and socks. “Do you ever think of me when you’re lying in bed at night?”

Her accelerated heart rate was all the answer he needed, and feeling brave, the Doctor turned his attention to the zipper of her jeans. “Do you wish I was there? Holding you? Touching you? Wish it was _my_ fingers working away beneath your knickers? _My_ lips catching your cries of release as you scream my name into your pillow?”

“I… I…”

“I want to watch,” the Doctor whispered, popping the button as he yanked the heavy material down Rose’s legs. “Will you do that, angel? Will you show me?”

The endearment slipped effortlessly from his lips, but still, he dared not meet her eyes, afraid of her reaction to his damning words. Instead, the Doctor peppered his companion’s stomach with sweet, teasing kisses—playfully flicking his tongue into her naval—that one perfect reminder of where life had once gone in, then nuzzling downwards, soothing a trail to where, one day, Rassilon willing, life could come out.

“Doctor, please…”

Taking his time, he brushed his lips across the crotch of Rose’s underwear, rubbing his nose over her swollen clit through the thin material. He was drowning in the scent of her arousal, and the Doctor longed to taste her at the source.

“You won’t be needing these,” he said, easing the sodden fabric down Rose’s thighs. Slowly, he licked his lips, and, guiding her leg over his shoulder, he dove forward to savour first-hand the ambrosia that’d tortured him for so long. Each lash of his tongue, each nip of his teeth drove her progressively higher, and Rose threw her head back—the Doctor’s hands bracing her at the waist as she arched under his ministrations.

“Look at me,” he whispered, grunting his pleasure as Rose’s body gifted him with more of her intoxicating release. “Don’t shut me out. Let me see those beautiful eyes watching me.”

Clearly, his wish was her command too, for in the next moment the Doctor found himself revelling in Rose’s surprised gasp as he eased two fingers into her slick entrance. She was tight—just like he’d imagined all those times he’d lain awake, cursing the weakness of his flesh as his seed spilled uselessly across his stomach—and a growl tore at the Doctor’s throat as he doubled his efforts, the feral sound echoing in his ears as he slid a third finger inside her.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, mouth returning to Rose’s clit as his tongue flicked harshly across the swollen nub. “Let me show you the stars.”

Rose groaned, and the sultry tone caused the Doctor’s cock to jump within his jeans. Her nails raked over his scalp as she drew him closer, and hastily, he tugged down his zip, the rasping sound gaining his companion’s attention as he sought some small measure of relief.

“Let me help you with that,” Rose said, her cheeks flushed as she ignored the Doctor’s protestations and dropped to the floor, urging him to take her place as her delicate fingers caressed his needy erection. A breath stuttered in his chest as the denim pooled around his ankles, and with a playful grin his companion leaned forward, sweeping her tongue over the swollen head.

“Rose,” he whispered. “Rose, please, I…” The Doctor’s skull hit the coral as she took him into her throat, and he damn near lost it like some spotty-faced youth of two-hundred, when she hollowed her cheeks and increased the pressure. It was too much, yet not enough, and as Rose began swallowing around his length, a litany of muffled pleas fell from the Doctor’s lips.

That was new. Not really the submissive type, him, but right here, right now, the Doctor found he wasn’t the least bit averse to a spot of begging. Begging for _what_ , he wasn’t quite sure, but as he felt that all-too-familiar tightening in his groin, the Doctor reached for Rose’s shoulders, hauling her against him as he regained his composure.

“Not this time,” he gasped, covering her mouth in a desperate kiss as he chased his essence upon her tongue. “Need to be inside you.”

“Impatient, are we?”

The Doctor grinned. “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

Nine hundred years, if he was brutally honest, and the Doctor refused to wait a minute longer. He spun them around as best he could—trying not to stumble as his rumpled jeans restricted his movement, and, with one hand on Rose’s hip, the Doctor guided her back against the ship’s interior. The other fell to his aching cock, and with slow, teasing strokes he rubbed himself between her wet folds, torturing himself with his need to get closer.

Rose was no blushing virgin, but the Doctor knew he’d stretch her far beyond that of his fingers, and a flash of purely male pride surged through him at the idea of erasing any other man’s touch from her body. “Be sure, Rose Tyler,” he whispered in her ear, his palms sliding to her thighs as he raised her up, aligning their lower bodies. “‘Cause if we do this, I will never let you go. You’ll belong to me—”

“We’ll belong to each other.”

Rose’s teeth nipped at his collar-bone, and all thoughts of gentility were lost as he surged forward, sheathing himself within her body. She’d said he was stuck with her, and despite his reservations, despite his teachings, despite everything that logic, or reason dictated, the Doctor had every intention of holding her to it. “How long are you going to stay with me?”

Her confirmation was simple and immediate. “Forever.” And the Doctor’s head fell to her shoulder, his eyes slamming shut as her internal muscles clenched in retaliation. Chest heaving, she keened against him, and each gasp he coaxed from her lips sent a shiver racing down his spine, each slow withdrawal of his glistening cock had his mouth watering at the memory of her taste. Rose’s ragged breaths spurred him on, and the Doctor’s grip tightened on her waist, dark promises drifting across her skin, as he hauled her into each desperate thrust.

“Don’t stop,” she whimpered, fingernails digging into his shoulders as the air became thick with the sounds of their joining, “Please, Doctor… wanna come…”

“You will,” he muttered, rolling his hips as he sought that one elusive spot right—

“There!”

The Doctor smiled, remembering their earlier conversation. “You wanted moves, Rose Tyler? I’ll show you _moves_.” His hand slipped between then, his thumb resting over the swollen bud of her clit. “Just relax,” he coaxed, “Let it happen. I won’t stop till I hear that sweet voice crying out my name—till I feel you quivering inside and out as I take you higher than you’ve ever been before.”

“Oh god.”

“No, just Doctor.”

Her walls flexed around his shaft, and the Time Lord slowed his thrusts to a leisurely pace, leaning back as he rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves in furious circles, eager to push her over the edge. Each heartfelt murmur, each trembling sigh was more than he'd imagined or hoped for, and at her whispered, “I love you,” the Doctor pushed forward, entering Rose’s mind with an ease that surprised him.

He hadn’t meant to take advantage, but if there was a sweeter phrase in all his five billion languages, the Doctor had yet to hear it. Rose Tyler was _his_ —body, mind, and soul—and as a surge of pure emotion ricocheted back at him through the link, the Doctor knew without a doubt that he loved her too.

It pained him that he couldn’t say it—hell, he hardly dared _think_ it—but to acknowledge such a dangerous truth aloud was just asking for fate to rip them apart. So instead, he whispered praises in an ancient language across her flushed cheeks, promising her the universe as the sensation of being one with this incredible woman almost brought him to his knees, their duel moans ascending into a rapturous duet until they were soaring—flying—her name a prayer on his lips as they clung together in the wake of their release.

 

 

Sometime later, the duo lay sprawled upon the aptly named jump seat. How long they’d been there the Doctor didn’t know—his Time Sense having abandoned him along with his jeans—but the console room was in near darkness, her song, almost undetectable, and the Doctor was positive the Old Girl had just been thoroughly scandalised by her inhabitants’ wanton activities.

“You know what?” whispered the drowsy voice of his lover, her warm breath fanning out over his bicep. “I take it back. You are _that_ impressive.”

The Doctor smirked. “We’re not done yet, Rose Tyler.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Grinning, she glanced back over her shoulder, and the Time Lord chuckled as she stifled a yawn against his chest. “Humans,” he said, dropping an affectionate kiss to her forehead, “You lot’d sleep your life away if you could. How ’m I supposed to honour my word when you’re practically snoring? A man could take offence.”

“Insatiable, you are.”

“Problem?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

Glancing around his beloved ship, the Doctor smiled at the piles of abandoned clothing that littered the floor. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what’d happened here, and as Rose trailed her fingers along his arm, circling his wrist before entwining them with his own in the familiar gesture, the Time Lord decided to leave the visual confirmation where it lay. Let the Captain deal with it—it wouldn’t be the first mess he’d had to clean up today—and besides, the Doctor had more important things to attend to.

“What do you say we move this to a bedroom?”

“Yours or mine?” Rose asked, and the TARDIS lights flickered in encouragement.

“ _Ours._ ”


End file.
